


Baby Driver

by etonnant67



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ballet Dancer Kim Jongin | Kai, Does that exist?, Fluff, M/M, Taxi Driver Chanyeol, just pretend ride share doesn't exist for this thanks, this is basically just a car ride AU, well it does now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 12:12:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12958932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etonnant67/pseuds/etonnant67
Summary: On late night drives, Chanyeol finally finds a way to fill all his gaps.





	Baby Driver

**Author's Note:**

> This was SUPPOSED to be a cute, short (emphasis on short) piece for Chanyeol's birthday but I have no self control and I can't adhere to deadlines so instead this ended up being nearly 13,000 words of absolutely pointless fluff and it's almost two weeks late. Whoops. 
> 
> Some suspension of disbelief is necessary for this. Just pretend that lyft/uber/your-ride-share-of-choice doesn't exist.

Chanyeol leans against the side of the yellow taxi, letting the cool of the metal seep through his jacket. It’s a chilly night, the early October air heavy with the smell of fresh rain and wood smoke, and most of the other drivers are holed up in their cars, keeping warm. He glances  around and sees that a few of the other cab windows have been rolled down on the driver’s side, curls of cigarette smoke slipping through the small gaps and shimmering like tiny ghosts in the glow of the streetlights.

 

It’s been a slow night, but Tuesdays usually are. In the two and a half hours that he’s been parked  in the taxi queue, Chanyeol has only had two rides. He’d spent the rest of the time sitting squished behind his steering wheel, squinting in his car’s dim overhead light, trying to make sense of the conjugation exercises in his French textbook. He’d quit after a while--his legs cramping up and all the verb tenses blurring together--and decided to stand outside, watching the late night crowds ride the escalator up from the subway, their mouths tight and their backs drooped with exhaustion.

 

There’s something about the mechanical way that the nights tick on, something in the way that people move down the escalators rushing to catch the next train or creep slowly up to the parking lot, looking for their rides home, something about the way the night air always hangs loose on his skin that Chanyeol has grown to love. He likes driving, sure, that’s why he applied for the job in the first place, but there’s something else, something heady in the ordered humanity of each late night that has made Chanyeol look forward to his twice weekly shifts.

 

He likes chatting with his passengers while he drives, listening to stories about their days, hearing about their homes--getting a glimpse into their lives, if even for a few minutes. He always liked the fact that, somehow, they are all connected.That beneath the disparate stories runs the same thick thread binding them all together--the same desire to go home, home to a family, home to a boyfriend, or just home to silence and solitude. Jongdae likes to tease him, always saying that Chanyeol’s head is too big for him to fill with his own thoughts, which is why he’s always trying to pick other people’s brains. Chanyeol usually shrugs it off, but he has to admit that Jongdae is kind of right--Chanyeol has always felt like he’s full of empty spaces. He’s  always tried to spin other stories and unravel other people if only to try to fill them in.

 

“Um. . .? Excuse me?”

 

Chanyeol draws his eyes away from the escalators to see a man standing in front of him, looking at him expectantly from under the brim of his worn baseball hat. He’s around his age and tall-- though not nearly as tall as Chanyeol-- and has a gym bag slung over his shoulder, black, the same color as his sweatpants and long sleeve t-shirt.

 

Chanyeol smiles at him. “Hi!” he says, brightly. “You need a ride?”

 

The man nods, looking slightly taken aback at Chanyeol’s enthusiasm.

 

“Yeah. . . my usual ride fell through. I’m not going too far.”

 

Chanyeol pushes off the side of the car and opens up the driver side door.

 

“Sure! Hop in.” He turns the keys in the ignition and the old cab shudders to life. The passenger side door opens and the man slides in, pushing his bag up against the opposite door.

 

Chanyeol resets the meter and starts to fiddle with the radio, settling on the modern rock station. They’re playing an old Smashing Pumpkins song and he taps his fingers against the steering wheel in time with Billy Corgan’s impassioned crooning.

 

“Where are you headed?” He glances in the rearview mirror and catches his passenger mid-yawn, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth stretched wide.

 

“To the apartments across the street from the strip mall--the one with the pizza place and the toy store,” the man says after a moment. His voice is rough and slow, like he’s just waking up from a long sleep. “Do you know it?”

 

Chanyeol nods and puts his car in drive. “Yeah, I actually live right by there. The 24-hour place with the huge, floppy slices, right? ” He and Jongdae have ordered the pizza from that place more times than he cares to remember.

 

Chanyeol sees a quirk of a smile catch at the corners of the other man’s mouth. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s the place. The pizza is kinda terrible, but it’s cheap so I’m always there.”

 

Chanyeol grins and starts to maneuver out of the parking lot and onto the main street.

 

“Yeah,” he replies. “My roommate and I are always getting food from that place.”

 

A silence falls between the two of them, with only the radio playing the background. The song ends and a Radiohead song starts up next. Chanyeol turns it up.

 

“You listen to this stuff?”

 

“Hmm?” Chanyeol says. “Yeah. I really like rock. I play guitar in a rock band in my spare time.” He chances another glance at the man in the backseat. He’s staring out the window. “Not your thing?”

 

“Nah, not really.”

 

Chanyeol reaches over and switches the station, settling on top 40 instead.

 

“You didn’t have to change it.”

 

Chanyeol shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter to me, man. Music is music.”

 

They fall quiet again. Chanyeol keeps his eyes on the road, mostly empty at the late hour. He draws to a stop at a red light. He looks in the rearview mirror again, to see that his passenger is resting his head against the cool window glass.

 

“I’m Chanyeol by the way.”

 

“Jongin.”

 

“Jongin?” Chanyeol raises his eyebrows. “You’re Korean?”

 

Chanyeol sees Jongin nod just as the light turns green.

 

“Yeah. And with a name like Chanyeol, I’m guessing you are too?”

 

“Born and partially raised. I moved to the States when I was seven.”

 

“I was born here,” Jongin replies. “I’ve only been to Seoul once, when I was really little.”

 

“You don’t have any interest in going again?” Chanyeol asks.

 

“Maybe,” Jongin says. “I don’t really speak Korean all that well, though, so it may not be really worth it.”

 

Chanyeol shrugs. “It’s pretty easy to get by, even with rough Korean. A lot of people our age know basic English and all the ahjummas will take pity on you and call you cute no matter what you do.”

 

He hears Jongin laugh. He has a nice laugh, it’s just as soft as his voice and it crackles, like it’s fracturing under the weight of his breaths.

 

“Maybe,” he says again. He takes off his hat and runs his hands through his hair. It falls into his eyes. Chanyeol can finally see the rest of Jongin’s face and he’s taken aback at just how _cute_ he is--with his wide, sleepy eyes, his full, pouty mouth, and angular jaw. He puts the hat back on his head, and Chanyeol redirects his attention to the road in front of him.

 

Chanyeol clears his throat. “Um so. . . what keeps you out so late on a Tuesday night, Jongin?”

 

“Class,” Jongin replies. “I’m a dancer and rehearsals often run late.”

 

“Until almost 1 am? Is that legal?”

 

Jongin laughs again. “Yes, until 1 am. Our winter show opens in like six weeks. We were running new choreography today and it wasn’t sticking so she held us back. My usual ride got fed up with waiting on me and bailed.”

 

Chanyeol whistles low. “Do you study dance at the university? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around campus.”

 

“No. I’m a ballet dancer. I dance with the city company.”

 

He whistles again. “Well shit.” He makes the left turn onto the strip mall’s street, speeding past the garish red of the neon lights shouting the names of the stores into the night.  “I can barely do _normal_ types of dancing. Ballet is well outside my realm of comprehension.” Chanyeol smiles at him through the rearview. “But I bet you hear that all the time.”

 

He sees Jongin shrug. “Not really. I mostly only hang out with other dancers.”

 

Chanyeol’s face heats up and he’s suddenly glad for the darkness in the car.

 

“I guess I should have seen that one coming.”

 

“I guess.” Jongin yawns again. “So you study at the university?”

 

“Yeah. Only part time though.”  Chanyeol says, “I’m an English lit major.”

 

“And the rest of the time?”

 

Chanyeol switches lanes. “I work. Play music.”

 

“Drive taxis?” Jongin offers.

 

This time it’s Chanyeol’s turn to smile. “Yeah. And drive taxis.”

 

Chanyeol pulls up in front of the high rise apartment building, a million times nicer than the old, squat brick building where he lives. He puts the car in park and stops the meter.

 

“This is it right?” Chanyeol turns around in his seat to face Jongin, looking at him straight on for the first time since they entered the taxi. He really is ridiculously good looking.

 

“Yeah,” Jongin says. He fumbles around in his bag for a bit and then produces his wallet, extracting a twenty dollar bill. “You can keep the change.”

 

Chanyeol reaches out for the money and Jongin presses it into the palm of his hand, his fingers dragging across the Chanyeol’s skin. Chanyeol curls his fingers around the bill and watches as Jongin shoulders his bag and then lets himself out of the car.

 

“Thanks for the ride, Chanyeol,” Jongin says through the open door. “Have a good rest of your night.”

 

“You too,” Chanyeol calls back, his voice uncharacteristically soft, as Jongin slams the car door shut and heads into the apartment building.

 

 _Well. Damn_.

\----

 

There’s a tap on the passenger side window, and Chanyeol jolts and drops his pencil in alarm. He looks out the window and sees Jongin peering through the glass, a black beanie pulled down low over his ears. Chanyeol fumbles around for a second and then rolls the window part of the way down.

 

“It’s Chanyeol, right?” Jongin says, his breath puffing against the cold glass. “Can you give me a ride again?”

 

“Yeah, sure, of course,” Chanyeol says, his heart still racing, though if it’s in surprise or something else, he’s not too sure. Chanyeol shoves his textbook out of his lap and onto the passenger seat. “It’s unlocked.”

 

Jongin slides into the back seat, letting the cool late night air in with him.

 

“Same place?” Chanyeol asks, once Jongin is buckled in.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Jongin crosses his arms and leans his head against the headrest with his eyes closed. He seems to curl in upon himself, his body crumpling into the seat. He looks exhausted.

 

Chanyeol starts the engine and puts the cab into drive. One of the older taxi drivers waves at him as he backs out of the parking lot and Chanyeol waves back, skeptical of whether or not the other man can even see him in the dim light.

 

“Another late rehearsal?” Chanyeol broaches, once he hits the main road. It’s Thursday and the clock is just hitting 11:30. There are more cars on the road tonight and their headlights flash in his rearview mirror when he glances up to look at Jongin in the backseat.

 

“You remember all that?” Jongin says with surprise in his voice. His eyes are still closed.

 

“Well, yeah. You remembered me, didn’t you?” Chanyeol laughs. His hands are hot and sweaty on the steering wheel. He grips it harder, curling his fingers around the cracked leather. “I try to remember the little details about most of my passengers.”

 

“Kinda creepy but, ok, fair point.” Jongin yawns. “But yeah, it was a long day. I got to the studio at 9 this morning and we didn’t stop until like 10. I’m so tired. My entire body is screaming at me.”

 

“Goddamn,” Chanyeol says. “13 straight hours? I don’t think I’ve ever done anything for 13 hours straight.”

 

“I find that hard to believe.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Didn’t you say that you play in a band?” Jongin replies. “One of my best friends is a classical pianist. He always practices for hours and hours--he’s worse than _I_ am. And all his music nerd friends are the same. Musicians always practice for hours on end. You all are even worse than dancers cause after a while our bodies make us stop moving. It’s not like your fingers stop working.”

 

Chanyeol smiles. “You’ve got a good memory. I didn’t expect you to remember that I’m a band.”

 

He can almost hear the shrug in Jongin’s voice. “You remember most of your passengers. I remember most talkative taxi drivers.”

 

“Touche.”

 

“So do you?”

 

“Do I what?” Chanyeol pulls to a stop at the stoplight.

 

“Do you practice for hours without stopping?”

 

The light goes green.

 

“I guess I do,” Chanyeol says after a moment. “I don’t ever really think about it. When I’m playing. . .that’s really all I know. That’s really all I notice. I get all wrapped up in making a part of a song sound right or trying to figure out a certain chord progression. Sometimes I do stay up all night playing or practicing with my band. So yeah. I guess you’re right.”

 

He hears Jongin laugh. “So it sounds like you do know what it’s like to do something for 13 straight hours.” He yawns again.

 

“You’re wrong though.”

 

Chanyeol watches as Jongin finally opens one eye to look at him.

 

“Hmm? Wrong about what?”

 

“That my body doesn’t complain when I play for too long. It does. My fingers cramp up, my fingertips go numb from pressing into the guitar strings, my wrists hurt.”

 

“But you keep playing don’t you?” Jongin asks. “You don’t stop when it hurts.”

 

Chanyeol nods, forgetting that Jongin probably can’t see him in the dark car.

 

“I do.”

 

“Then you _really_ do understand what it’s like. I keep dancing even when my muscles scream, even when my feet are bruised and tired. Even when it feels like my body is about to collapse. Because I want to be perfect. Because I love it. I’m guessing it’s the same for you and music.”

 

Chanyeol turns into the parking lot of Jongin’s apartment building. He puts the car in park.

 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol responds, turning around to look at Jongin through the gap in the two front seats. “It is the same. I do love it.”

 

Jongin offers him a half smile. It just reaches his eyes. Chanyeol’s next breath catches in his throat.

 

“Then I guess we’re pretty similar then, Chanyeol.” He takes his wallet from the pocket of his sweatpants. “It’s 15 dollars, right?”

 

Chanyeol, finally, exhales. “Yeah. 15.”

 

Jongin takes out a 20 dollar bill. He presses it into Chanyeol’s outstretched hand, his fingers lingering in his palm for a moment too long.

 

“Keep the change,” Jongin says. He opens the car door and gets out. “Drive safely tonight.”

 

\---

 

For Chanyeol, late night drives are a time to think. Driving home from Jongin’s apartment that night, Chanyeol considers love.

 

Chanyeol has had two great loves in his entire life.

 

He discovered them both at the same time--when he was little and had just moved to the States with his family. He’d taken the transition hard; he’d left all his friends behind, everything in the States was huge and loud, and English--with all its mushy syllables and strange tones--was too much for his brain to wrap itself around. Three months into the move, Chanyeol had refused to step foot into his family’s suburban home, opting instead to sit in the middle of the driveway and demand that his parents take him and his sister back to Seoul in the morning. He did this for three nights, staying outside until his mother came outside and picked him up, carrying his small, crying body into the house for dinner. On the fourth night, Chanyeol’s mom didn’t come outside for him. He stayed sitting in the middle of the driveway, watching as the street lights flickered on one by one, illuminating the quiet neighborhood street.  It wasn’t until the headlights of his dad’s new Toyota are pointing right at him from the bottom of the driveway that Chanyeol noticed that he wasn’t alone. His dad got out of his car and squatted next to where Chanyeol was sitting, his tie dangling between the two of them.

 

“Let’s go for a drive, Chanyeollie.”

 

His dad drove them around the neighborhood, Chanyeol in the passenger seat, barely tall enough to see over the dashboard. The two of them didn’t say anything and his father turned on the cassette player. Chanyeol recognized the opening guitar chords as an old folk song that his father used to play around the house back in Seoul and he bit his lip to try to stop himself from crying.

 

“I know you miss home,” his dad had said. “I miss it too. So much that sometimes, all I want to do is get on a plane and go all the way back there. But I can’t. You know what I do instead? I get in my car and I drive around and I listen to music. It helps me to clear my mind and to focus on something else. So let’s make a deal, ok Chanyeollie? Whenever you’re sad, you come find me. We’ll drive around and listen to music together. It’ll be our thing ok?”

 

And so it was. At least once a week, Chanyeol and his dad would drive around the neighborhood late at night, with the radio turned all the way up. And everytime, Chanyeol would ask his dad to play _that_ song, that same old folk song over and over again. Something about the fragility in the singer’s voice combined with the blur of the street lamps as they drove past filled that empty space in Chanyeol’s heart, making him feel just a little less lonely. Something about it made Chanyeol find love, comfort, and solace in late night drives and guitar chords.

 

Chanyeol pulls into the taxi parking queue. It’s late and the metro lot is almost completely empty. But Chanyeol doesn’t feel quite ready to go home. Instead, he pulls out his phone and plugs in the stereo aux cord. It takes him a second of searching, but he pulls up the old folk song. His dad always said that it was more than just a love song--he was adamant that it was a song about loss and longing. And about moving on. _It makes me think of Korea_ , he’d said once, _it makes home not feel so far away._ It’s been a long time since Chanyeol has considered Seoul as his home, but this song has always been his safe place. It’s always helped him fill in his empty gaps. He adjusts the driver’s seat so that it reclines as far back as it can go. Then Chanyeol closes his eyes and quietly, so quietly, hums along with Kim Kwang Seok, the fingers on his right hand tracing the chords on an invisible guitar.

 

\---

 

“Do you just really like nighttime or something?”

 

“What?”

 

“You’re always out here when I get out of rehearsal. Normal people don’t stay up this late.”

 

“I guess I am a nighttime person. It’s like I’m not fully awake and energized until like 5 pm. I stay up late even when I’m not driving. I always have.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Habit, I guess. And I like how quiet everything is at nighttime. I can do whatever I want--play music, read, write, think--without interruptions. It’s kinda nice, you know? To make something everyone else is too busy sleeping.”

 

“I’ve literally never felt that urge but ok. I love sleeping too much. If I could, I’d sleep like 18 hours a day.”

 

“But ballet keeps you from doing that.”

 

“Yeah it does. But I guess that’s ok. Dance is the only thing I love more than sleeping.”

 

“I think you could love the nighttime too.”

 

“What, are you gonna convert me into a nighttime person?”

 

“I think I could.”

 

“I doubt that.”

 

“I don’t. You haven’t experienced the magic of a beautiful nighttime drive set to the right music.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“Yeah, I do. Cause if you had, then you’d be a nighttime person. Just wait and see.”

 

\---

 

“Do you only work Tuesdays and Thursdays?” It’s been a week and a half since Chanyeol had last driven Jongin home and now the dancer is sitting back in his taxi, scrolling through his phone as he talks to Chanyeol.

 

“I do. I only work twice a week,” Chanyeol says. “This is only my side job.”

 

“Along with school and your band?”

 

Chanyeol nods. “Yeah. And then I work at a bookstore the rest of the time.”

 

“And you think I don’t sleep?” He can hear the incredulousness in Jongin’s voice. “How the hell do you find time to do all of that?”

 

Chanyeol shrugs. “I make time. I have to. The bills aren’t gonna pay themselves.”

 

Jongin chuckles. “Too real.”

 

The two of them fall quiet after that, the silence shrouding the car just as thickly as the dark of the night. Chanyeol bites his bottom lip and switches on the radio, turning it on to the rock station.  A Metallica song is playing, the guitar intro filling the emptiness of the car.

 

“This is really pretty,” Jongin says, once James Hetfield’s voice cuts in. “The guitar, I mean. It kind of reminds me of some of the stuff that I dance to.”

 

“Metallica and ballet?” Chanyeol muses. “That’s not a combination I would have ever thought of.” He turns into the parking lot of Jongin’s apartment building.

 

“Music is music, right?” Jongin parrots back.

 

Chanyeol can’t help but smile.  “Music is music. But I agree. This is a really pretty song. It’s one of the first songs I ever learned to play on the guitar.” He puts the car in park. Jongin doesn’t move to leave.

 

Instead he leans forward, wrapping his arms around the headrest of the passenger side seat. His face is close to Chanyeol’s own, so close that he can feel the warmth radiating off of Jongin’s body. Chanyeol turns, just slightly, so that he’s facing Jongin, looking at the slope of his eyes and the soft fullness of his lips.

 

“Can you turn it up?” Jongin asks, his voice soft.

 

Chanyeol silently reaches over and turns the volume knob. Jongin closes his eyes.

 

The two of them stay there like that--Chanyeol looking at Jongin, Jongin still leaning forward with his eyes closed--and listen to the rest of the song play out. Chanyeol can barely concentrate on the song, his heart is beating too fast. He’s too caught up in how close Jongin is, in the way that Jongin seems to be letting the music wash over his entire body. Chanyeol knows that feeling, he’s felt it before when listening to one of those few songs that makes his fingers itch for his guitar and make his heartbeat match the song’s tempo until it feels like the melody has seeped into his soul. But this time, he wonders how it makes Jongin feel, whether he’s leaning forward so that he can absorb every note and let them run hot through his bloodstream. Chanyeol wants to know what else it would take to make Jongin feel like that.

 

The last few notes fade out and the station transitions to an upbeat McDonald’s commercial, breaking the moment. Jongin opens his eyes, a soft smile playing at the edge of his lips. Chanyeol lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

 

“What’s that song called?” Jongin asks, turning to face Chanyeol. He’s still so close.

 

“Nothing Else Matters,” Chanyeol responds, his voice quiet. “It’s called Nothing Else Matters.”

 

Jongin smiles at him, tiny and blinding.

 

“You’re going to have to play it for me sometime.” He sits back now and pulls out his wallet. Chanyeol watches as his fingers flick through the cash at the back and extract a 20 dollar bill. Jongin leans forward again--close, so close--and presses the cash into Chanyeol’s hand. He lets his fingers trail upwards at contact, gently dancing over Chanyeol’s wrist. He leans back and opens the car door.

 

“Goodnight, Chanyeol. See you next time.” Jongin calls over his shoulder. “And for the record, I think I might be a nighttime person now.”

 

Chanyeol doesn’t say anything back. He’s too distracted by the lingering heat of Jongin’s fingers, softly smoldering across his wrist.  


\---

 

“If you’re so into music, then why are you an English major? Shouldn’t you be studying composition or something?”

 

They’re sitting in the lot of Jongin’s apartment building. It’s earlier in the evening--only 9:30--and Jongin is stalling. Chanyeol is turned so that he’s looking at Jongin over the center console and Jongin is curled up in the backseat; hood pulled over his head, long legs tucked underneath him, looking more like he’s sitting on the sofa in Chanyeol’s living room instead of in the dim, stuffy light of his taxi.  Chanyeol knows that he’s missing out on business by sitting here with him, but he doesn’t make any moves to try to move Jongin along.

 

“I like books,” Chanyeol says with a shrug. “I like stories more than I like music. I like the process of making up stories. It keeps my brain busy.”

 

“Then why don’t you just write instead of make music?” Jongin asks. He’s smiling at Chanyeol, and he leans forward, just so slightly.

 

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about it. I like both. I guess music is just another way of telling a story, isn’t it?” Chanyeol replies. “The best songs are trying to share something with the listener, both with the lyrics and with the melody. In some ways, I guess that studying literature makes me a better musician.” Chanyeol quirks his mouth to the side in thought. “They both do the same thing for me, you know? Music and stories. They both fill in the gaps in me. In my mind.”

 

“Your gaps?”

 

Chanyeol exhales. “That sounds weird doesn’t it?” He laughs to himself. “I’ve always had this feeling, like there’s something missing? Like there are these empty parts of myself that need filling in, like I need to be doing _something_ to keep myself from feeling that way.”

 

Chanyeol bites his bottom lip and looks at Jongin. “This got heavy.” He smiles slightly. “It almost feels like I’m in therapy.”

 

Jongin is silent for a minute. There’s an unreadable expression working its way across his face and his bright eyes feel hot on Chanyeol.

 

Finally, he says “You’re an interesting person, Chanyeol Park. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”

 

“Me? You’re the one who’s a professional ballet dancer. I’m just a student and part-time taxi driver. I’m so normal.”

 

Jongin shakes his head. “Nah. There’s a lot more to you than just that. I’m a ballet dancer. That’s it. I like to dance, I’ve _always_ liked to dance, and so I do it. That’s it. All my energy, all my passion goes into dancing. That’s all I’ve ever done. But you’ve done so many different things, you like so many different things, and your life seems so full. Full of passions. It’s so different from my own.” His voice drops low, almost to a murmur. “Sometimes, I wish I was doing more, that I had more energy to love more things, like you do. Maybe I’m a bit empty myself.”

 

Chanyeol sighs. “I’m not too sure how right you are about all that. I almost wish that I were more like you. You’ve concentrated all of your love into one thing. I can’t do that. I’m so afraid of missing out on something that I feel like I have to try everything all at once. You know what you like, you know what you want to do with your life.” He huffs out a short breath. “I honestly have no idea what I’m doing.”

 

“But isn’t that more fun?” Jongin presses. “You have the chance to see so much life.”

 

Chanyeol shrugs, again. “I don’t know really. I’m not really sure if I’m seeing anything at all.”

 

Jongin falls silent for a bit. Chanyeol exhales and looks out the window. His head is swirling with a thousand different uneasy feelings.

 

He narrows his eyes at Jongin. “Why are you asking me existential questions?” His voice wavers a bit. “When is it going to be my turn?”

 

Jongin shrugs this time. “Guess I’m just in an existential mood. And I guess the grass is always greener on the other side, huh?” There’s a tremble in his words. Jongin starts to move, pulling out his wallet and twenty dollars in cash. He hands the money to Chanyeol and then opens the car door.

 

“You can ask me as many hard questions as you want next time. Goodnight, Chanyeol. Drive safely tonight.”

 

“I always do,” Chanyeol calls after him.

 

\---

 

Chanyeol starts to look out for Jongin. He starts turning down other rides at 11:30 and instead stands outside of his cab, scanning the crowds for familiar broad shoulders and a sleepy gait. Sometimes, he sees him coming up the escalator only to bypass the taxi line entirely and get into a waiting Subaru. Chanyeol watches him--watches the way he always jogs towards the waiting car, watches the way he taps the driver side window before going around to get in the passenger seat, watches the way the car will back out of its space and turn out of the parking lot. Some nights, Jongin catches Chanyeol watching him. Chanyeol watches as he waves at him, a slow smile will spreading across his face. Chanyeol always waves back, smiling and trying to not to think too much about the increase in his heartbeat.

 

\---

“Hey, Chanyeol.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in the daylight?”

 

“And?”

 

“What if you look completely different? Do you even exist during the daytime? Are you some sort of vampire?”

 

“I could ask you the same questions. And vampires exist at all times of day, they just don’t go out in the sun.”

 

“That sounds like a detail that a vampire would know.”

 

“Oh my god, Jongin.”

  


\---

 

“It’s weird seeing you here on a Wednesday.” Chanyeol looks up from where he’d been texting Jongdae about the monthly heating bill. It’s Chanyeol’s turn to pay. It’s just past midnight and it’s freezing outside, the temperature dropping as October draws to a close. Jongin is standing in front of him, his entire body consumed in a huge puffy coat, the hood pulled up over his head. Chanyeol can just make out the red of his nose in the light of the streetlamp. He smiles at the other man, trying to quell the happiness that’s bubbled up in his chest.

 

“Yeah, I picked up an extra day this week,” he says, unlocking the taxi. “Need a ride?”

 

“Hell yeah.” Jongin gets in the car and Chanyeol follows, starting the engine and turning up the heat.

 

Chanyeol pulls out of the parking lot. He doesn’t turn the radio on this time.

 

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Chanyeol says, trying to keep his voice casual. “I was starting to think that you’d forgotten about me.”

 

There’s no response.

 

“Jongin?”

 

Chanyeol looks over his shoulder to see Jongin curled up in the backseat, fast asleep, his cheek pressing against the cold glass of the window. The lights from the passing cars illuminate the planes of his face just right and Chanyeol finds himself lingering too long, staring at the pout of his lips, gentle in sleep, and the soft slope of his nose.

 

Chanyeol grips the steering wheel a little too tightly and exhales hard. He keeps his eyes glued to the road for the rest of the drive to Jongin’s apartment.

 

\---

 

“I’m sitting up here tonight.” Jongin gets into the passenger side seat of the taxi, haphazardly shoving his bag in the back. “I need to make up for falling asleep on you last time.” Jongin buckles in and then turns to face Chanyeol. “Hi.”

 

A burst of frigid night air had pushed its way into the car when Jongin had gotten in, but Chanyeol feels his entire body flush hot. “Hey, Jongin.” He tries to play it normal. He grins at him. Jongin is so close. He’s not wearing a hat tonight and his hair hangs loose across his forehead, still damp from what Chanyeol guesses is his post rehearsal shower. He can smell the sharp, clean scent of his shampoo. Chanyeol turns on the radio.

 

“Hey to yourself.” Jongin messes with the seat adjuster and pushes himself back so that he can stretch out his long legs. “My ankles are screaming at me.”

 

“Hard day at rehearsal?”

 

Jongin grimaces and nods. “That and the fact that the temperature is dropping. It makes my joints all creaky and my muscles all stiff. It’s the worst.”

 

A Fifth Harmony song starts to play on the radio and Jongin reaches over to turn it up.

 

“I don’t even like this song, but I just need something to wash the fucking Nutcracker score out of my ears,” he grumbles.

 

“You’re doing The Nutcracker?!” Chanyeol realizes that he probably should have been able to figure that out by now--there have been advertisements all over town publicizing the city ballet’s annual Nutcracker show. “Shit, that’s a huge deal.”

 

Jongin groans. “It is, I guess. This is my second year doing it, and my first as a lead. I really enjoy it but the music is getting to me. Familiarity breeds contempt, that’s what they say, right?”

 

“If you say so. You’re a lead? Which character are you?”

 

“How well do you know the story?”

 

Chanyeol shrugs. “I know the basics. There’s a girl and an anthropomorphized Nutcracker Prince and a rat villain thingy. I think there’s a plum? Oh and dancing candy canes.”

 

Jongin laughs at him, one of those gasping giggles that Chanyeol has grown so fond of. “That’s pretty much it. I’m the Mouse King.”

 

“Wait, _shit_ that is a big deal.” Chanyeol whistles. “I had no idea you were so important.”

 

Jongin laughs again and shakes his head. “I’m not _all that_ important. I mean, I pop up towards the end of the first half and I have some pretty complicated parts but then I get stabbed and die right as the first act ends. After that, I just fade into the regular ensemble for rest of the ballet.”

 

“But still!” Chanyeol stops at the red light and turns to face Jongin. “You’re like an actual character with an actual _name_. That’s huge to me.”

 

Jongin smiles at him and slaps him on the arm. “Oh come on.”

 

“How much longer until the show?” Chanyeol asks. The light turns green.

 

“We open the first of December. You should come see it. I get a ton of free tickets--it’ll be really easy for me to send one your way.”

 

Chanyeol feels his face grow hot and he’s suddenly grateful for the darkness in the car.

 

“Look at that,” he says, “I went from just being your taxi driver to being invited to see The Nutcracker.”

 

“Hey, you’re basically the main reason that I’ve been able to get home for the past month. You’ve put in nearly as much work as I have into this. It’s only fair.”

 

Chanyeol laughs in return. “I’d love to go. I’ve never seen a ballet before.”

 

“Then let’s make this one your first.”

 

The song ends and a Sam Smith song starts up in its place.

 

“Every single Sam Smith song makes me want to burst into tears,” Jongin says. “They’re all so heartbreaking.”

 

“I don’t know. I really like them” Chanyeol responds. “They’re really sad, but they’re also really honest. Like Sam’s a guy who really knows what it feels like to have his heart shattered.”

 

“Oh no, I totally agree,” Jongin says. “They make me want to cry cause they really get to what it’s like to lose someone.”

 

“Has that happened to you?” Chanyeol asks. “Have you lost someone like that?”

 

“What, it is my turn for hard questions?” Jongin musses with his hair.

 

Chanyeol throws a smirk his way. “You did say that it would be my turn this time. And this isn’t even that heavy! It’s topical.”

 

He just catches Jongin’s pout. “I shouldn’t have said anything. But a promise is a promise.” He sighs. “Of course I have. I’m 23. I’ve been in love before.”

 

Chanyeol can’t help but ask. “How long ago?”

 

Jongin furrows his brow. “About two years ago. I was dating a guy--” Chanyeol’s heart jumps-- “from one of my dance classes. We’d been together since I was 18, he was my first serious relationship, probably my first love, I guess. He was an amazing dancer--the best I’d ever met, the best in our entire class. He got an offer to go dance with the New York City Ballet and left me here. Which was fine--I think we both thought that we could do the whole long distance thing.” Jongin’s frown deepens. “But like two months into his move, he just stopped answering my calls. He didn’t respond to any of my texts. It was really strange cause we were a couple that talked _everyday_ even when we were living in the same city. I got worried so I, kind of stupidly, went up to New York to go see him, just to check in, you know? But when I got there, I figured out why he’d stopped talking to me. I knocked on his apartment door and there was another guy there. The two of them were shirtless and it was completely obvious what they’d been doing.”

 

Chanyeol pulls into Jongin’s parking lot and turns off the engine. “Holy shit, Jongin. I’m so sorry. That’s so shitty.” He looks at Jongin and sees that the other man is staring straight at him. Chanyeol doesn’t break eye contact. “He didn’t even have the decency to face you and just say that he wanted to end it?”

 

Jongin just shrugs. “No, he didn’t. I should have been able to read the warning signs early on, but I was really naive about the entire thing.” He offers Chanyeol a half smile. “It’s not really a big deal anymore. Like I said, it was two years ago. I’m over it. It hurt, but it was a good learning experience.”

 

“What did you learn?”

 

“To not take myself for granted. That I deserve someone who’s gonna give me all the love in the world, you know?” Jongin fidgets in his seat, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

 

Before he can stop himself, Chanyeol reaches over and puts one hand on Jongin’s shoulder. “You really do, Jongin.”

 

Jongin takes one hand out of his pocket and places it on top of Chanyeol’s. His hand is soft and warm. “You’re a huge softie, you know that right?”

 

Chanyeol lifts one shoulder. “So I’ve been told.”

 

“So now that we’re swapping stories of heartbreak, what about you? Anyone ever break your heart?”

 

Chanyeol thinks back on his own past relationships: to Baekhyun, his boyfriend all through high school, and the quiet way that they’d grown apart after graduation; to Kyungsoo, the vocalist of a band that usually played in the same clubs as his own, with whom he’d spent a few brief but really passionate months; and to Wendy, Jongdae’s sweet, pretty friend from econ class, who he’d dated for only a few months but ended up breaking up when she’d said that she wanted to “see other people”. None of them had really left Chanyeol heart broken, but he couldn’t deny that they’d each left an impression on him.

 

“. . . I’m not sure that I’ve really been in that type of relationship,” he says after a bit. “It’s not that I haven’t been in a serious relationship, cause I have--I was with one of my ex-boyfriends for almost 3 and a half years--but they all ended simply. I never felt. . .broken after they ended, you know?”

 

Jongin tightens his grip on Chanyeol’s hand and nods. “Do you think you loved any of them?”

 

Suddenly self conscious, Chanyeol slips his hand off of Jongin’s shoulder and returns it to his own lap. Jongin puts his own hand back into his pocket. Chanyeol decides to stare out the windshield at the silent parking lot.

 

“I did love them,” he says. “Baekhyun--my first boyfriend--I’m pretty sure I loved him as much as I could have loved anyone at that stage of my life. But the end didn’t hurt.” Chanyeol takes his phone out of his pocket. “Can I play a song for you?”

 

Jongin looks taken aback. “That’s a weird transition.”

 

Chanyeol laughs. “No, trust me. It makes sense.” He plugs his phone into the aux cable and selects the song. It’s the same old Kim Kwang Seok song. “My dad used to play this for me all the time when I was growing up,” he explains. “It was the first song that I ever learned to play on guitar, when I was like 10.”

 

Kwang Seok’s voice starts to fill the car.

 

“This is all in Korean,” Jongin says.

 

“I can translate if you don’t catch all of it.”

 

“No, it’s ok.” Jongin leans his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. “I just want to listen to it through first.”

 

The two of them sit in the darkness of the car and let the song fill the space around them. Chanyeol finds himself mouthing the words to himself.

 

“Goddamn,” Jongin says as the last few notes fade out. “Talk about honesty.” He opens his eyes and looks at Chanyeol. “I couldn’t catch all of the words, but I don’t think I really needed to. I could hear every single emotion in his voice.”

 

Chanyeol swallows and nods. “Yeah. I think it’s the perfect song. Kwang Seok sings with so much emotion.  And it has such amazing storytelling, he paints a really vivid picture of this relationship and the heartbreak.”

 

“How would you translate that bit in the chorus?” Jongin asks. “Like ‘love that hurts a lot isn’t love’?”

 

Chanyeol nods. “Yeah, that’s pretty close. Or maybe like ‘I realize that love that is painful isn’t love’. But that’s why I wanted to play it. I’ve never really believed that love needs to hurt for it to be legit. Like, I did love a lot of the people that I dated before and I feel like the breakups didn’t hurt because we both really loved each other and we cared enough about the other person to try our best to not hurt them when it came time for us to end it.” He falls silent for a minute and worries his lip between his bottom teeth. “I think I’ve been really lucky in that respect.”

 

Jongin is studying Chanyeol’s face with an unreadable expression. He quirks his mouth and then reaches over into Chanyeol’s lap to take his hand again. He laces his fingers with Chanyeol’s and Chanyeol looks at him in surprise.

 

“You have been lucky,” Jongin says, looking his dead in the eyes. The brown of his eyes is so bright, even in the dim lighting. He’s so handsome. “But I think everyone who’s been with you has been ridiculously lucky as well.”

 

Chanyeol knows that he’s looking at Jongin with a stupid expression on his face. Jongin grins at him and squeezes his hand before he lets go.

 

“You’re a really sweet guy, Chanyeol. I don’t know you all that well, but I can tell that you have a lot of love in you.”

 

Chanyeol blinks and snaps alive, regaining some of his composure. “‘Don’t know me all that well’?” He smiles at Jongin, hoping that it comes off as being light hearted. “After all our heavy heart-to-hearts? Here I was, thinking that we’d become friends.”

 

Jongin keeps smiling at him. “I mean, I don’t know you as well as I’d like to.”

 

“You want to get to know me better?”

 

Jongin nods. “If you want?”

 

Chanyeol can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I’d really like that.”

 

Jongin grins at him again. “Awesome.” Chanyeol’s eyes follow Jongin’s as he checks the time on the dashboard. It’s 1:15. “Do you have anywhere else that you need to be right now? Do you want to start now and get pizza with me? I’m fucking starving.”

Chanyeol leans back in his seat and starts the engine. “Let’s go.”

 

\---

“You owe me two songs now,” Jongin says when Chanyeol pulls into Jongin’s apartment parking lot for the second time that night.

 

“I what?”

 

Jongin takes Chanyeol’s hand and presses the twenty into his palm. He reaches into the back seat and grabs his gym bag then opens the door.

 

“You owe me two songs,” he says as he gets out. “You promised that you’d play ‘Nothing Else Matters’ for me. Now I want you to play the Kim Kwang Seok song for me too. Deal?”

 

Chanyeol smiles at him. “Deal.”

\---

 

“Have you ever been afraid that you’re about to lose something?”

 

“More than once.”

 

“Do you feel that way now?”

 

“A little bit. . .I’m kind of afraid that I won’t need to rely on you anymore and then I’m going to lose this.”

 

“This?”

 

“This. . .friendship? This relationship? I don’t want to lose this.”

 

“You don’t have to. We don’t have to.”

\---

 

Chanyeol puts his guitar in the trunk of his car before his shift on Tuesday night. It’s a freezing cold night; the weather app on his phone puts the temperature at well below 20 degrees. But Chanyeol pulls on his thickest, puffiest winter coat, steals Jongdae’s huge beanie and pulls it down over his ears, and stands outside, looking out for Jongin.

 

There was a noticeable change in their relationship after the Kim Kwang Seok-and-Pizza night. They’d kept the conversation going while they ate, filling in many of the little gaps (“how long have you been dancing?” “How long have you been playing guitar?” ”Do you have any siblings?” “Two  older sisters. You?” “I have one older sister!”) and finally exchanging numbers. Chanyeol found himself becoming distracted by all of the little things about Jongin that he never got to see when he was behind the wheel--like the way his smile takes up the entirety of his face, or the fact that he has a tendency to cover his mouth when he laughs, or that he has a habit of periodically pouting. Chanyeol catalogued each of these things, tucking them away for later. They hadn’t done anything except eat and talk that night but now, standing out in the cold, Chanyeol knows that there had been a significant shift in his relationship with Jongin. He’s not sure what direction it had moved in, but he feels closer to the other man, close enough that he’s standing outside in sub-freezing temperatures, bouncing on the balls of his feet, waiting for a sign of the other man. They’d texted a little bit since then, Jongin sending him funny selfies in the practice room and Chanyeol responding with strings of emojis or a picture of his own. But nothing serious.

 

His phone vibrates in his pocket and Chanyeol takes it out.

 

 **(22:16) jongin kim** : i see you.

 **(22:17) jongin kim** : you look cold.

 

Chanyeol looks over to the escalator and sees Jongin riding up towards him, waving enthusiastically.

 

“Hey you,” Jongin says, when he’s finally within speaking distance. He looks so cute tonight, he’s completely swallowed up by his coat and he’s wearing glasses, the round type with the thin wires, that Jongdae always says should only be worn by geriatric history professors. Jongin, somehow, makes them look fashionable. “It’s way too cold to be standing out in the cold like this.”

 

“I’m fine,” Chanyeol says, opening the passenger side door for Jongin.

 

“You are _not_ fine,” Jongin replies. “You’re shivering.”

 

“I was not.” Chanyeol gets in himself and starts up the car, turning on the radio and dialing the heat up to full blast.

 

Jongin shoots him a skeptical glance but shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

 

They make small talk for a while, Jongin filling Chanyeol in on his rehearsal and Chanyeol regaling a funny interaction that he’d had with a customer at the bookstore earlier in the day.

 

At the turn on to Jongin’s street, Chanyeol clears his throat. “Um, I have something to ask you.”

 

Jongin looks over and nods. “Of course. What is it?”

 

“How busy are you going to be later tonight? Like at one?”

 

Jongin’s eyebrows go up. “One AM?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Jongin laughs. “I’m usually asleep by then if I can manage it. Why?”

 

“I have to uphold my end of the deal.”

 

Jongin frowns at him in confusion for a moment and then he breaks into a huge smile. “Ah. Well then, I can make myself free.”

 

Chanyeol exhales hard in relief and smiles at Jongin. “Great.” He turns into the apartment parking lot. “I have to finish out my shift and then switch into my real car, but I should be done and back here at around one.”

 

Jongin grabs his bag from the backseat and pulls it forward, fishing the cab fare out of one of the pockets. He leans over so that he’s close, so close that Chanyeol can smell the spearmint of the gum that he’d been chewing.

 

“That’s perfect.” His face is so close. Jongin takes one of Chanyeol’s hands and, just like always, presses the bill into his palm and then curls his fingers between Chanyeol’s own. Chanyeol feels frozen, his eyes locked with Jongin’s own. Jongin leans forward and presses a tiny, soft kiss onto Chanyeol’s cheek. Chanyeol’s eyes flutter shut at the contact and he leans into the warmth of Jongin’s lips. And then, just as suddenly as it happened, it’s over and Jongin is leaning away and leaving the car.

 

“Just text me when you’re outside,” he says as he slings his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll let you in.”

 

“Ok.” Chanyeol presses two fingers to the spot where Jongin’s lips had just been and just stares after the other man as he laughs at the dazed expression on Chanyeol’s face  and walks towards the building.

 

Chanyeol can’t hear the radio over the sound of his frantically beating heart.

 

\---

 

 **(1:09) chanyeol:** im outside.

 **(1:09) chanyeol:** its v cold.

 **(1:10) jongin kim:** coming down.

 

Chanyeol fiddles with the strap of his guitar case as he waits for Jongin to come get him. The rest of his shift had passed so slowly, he’d only had to do two more trips, and the second that his shift was over he’d practically sped to where he’d parked his actual car and then booked it to Jongin’s apartment. He’s nervous, more nervous than he’d been for any date in the past. Is this a date? Chanyeol’s not really sure what to call what’s about to happen. All he knows for certain is that his heart hasn’t slowed down since Jongin kissed him nearly three hours ago.

 

There’s a click and Jongin pokes his head out of the main doors. He smiles when he sees Chanyeol standing there. He’s still got his glasses on.

 

“Hey.”

 

Chanyeol follows Jongin into the lobby. He’s changed into gray and blue plaid pajama pants and a light gray crew neck sweatshirt. His hair hangs soft and fluffy into his eyes and Jongin reaches up to brush his bangs out of the way.

 

“The elevators are this way,” he says. Chanyeol can tell just from the lobby that Jongin’s apartment is miles nicer than his own. The floor is shiny white marble and the ceiling is high. The area is well lit, warm lighting coming from the modernist chandelier hanging in the middle of it all. Jongin waves to the overnight guard sitting behind the desk and leads Chanyeol to the silver elevators at the back. The doors ding open immediately. They both get in and Jongin presses the button for the tenth floor.

 

“How was the rest of your shift?” He asks once the doors slide shut.

 

Chanyeol makes a noncommittal noise. “It was fine. Not super eventful.” He smiles shyly. “Honestly, I was really just waiting for it to be over.”

 

Jongin smiles back at him. “So you could come here?”

 

Chanyeol looks down at his shoes. The elevator chimes open. “Yeah.”

 

Jongin grabs his hand, twining their fingers together, and pulls him out. He leads him to the door halfway down the hall and pulls out his keys, letting them both in.

 

Jongin turns on the light and kicks the door shut behind them.

 

“Well this is it,” he announces as he toes off his shoes.

 

Chanyeol whistles and bends down to do the same. “Damn. This is so fucking nice. You live here alone?”

 

“Yeah. It’s just me.”

 

Jongin’s apartment is easily twice the size of the one he shares with Jongdae. The living room and kitchen are part of the same continuous floor plan and Chanyeol can see the shine of the stainless steel appliances sitting by the stove. But his eyes are really drawn to the huge floor to ceiling windows that make up one of his living room walls.

 

“You can see so much from up here,” Chanyeol says, his voice gone breathy with awe. He puts his guitar down by the edge of the huge dark gray sofa in the middle of the living room and goes over to look out the windows.

 

Jongin follows and stands right behind him. “Yeah you can. It’s the best part of this place, to be honest.”

 

“I’d kill for a view like this.” Chanyeol looks east and can see the metro station and the cheesy strip mall in miniature.

 

“Well, just don’t kill me.” Jongin places both hands on the shoulders of Chanyeol’s coat. “You can take this off you know.” Chanyeol inadvertently takes a step backwards, his body pressing against Jongin’s own.

 

“Shit.” He sidesteps Jongin and shrugs out of his coat, his face burning. “Sorry.” He snatches the beanie off his head and stuffs it in the pocket of his coat, combing his fingers through his hair at the same time. It probably looks wild.

 

Jongin pouts at him and then moves to sit down on the sofa. “I never thought I’d say this, but you’re so nervous, Chanyeol,” he says, eyeing the way that the other man is standing at the far end of the sofa. “Why? It’s just me. You’re just here to play a song for me. You play music all the time, don’t you?”

 

Chanyeol sighs and flops down next to Jongin. “I do. But this feels different somehow.” He reaches down and grabs his guitar, unzipping it from the case. “I rarely ever play for an audience of just one.” He starts to fiddle with the tuning keys. “And honestly? I’m trying to impress you.”

 

Jongin’s face lights up at that, a smile overtaking him. “You don’t have to impress me.”

 

Chanyeol looks up from tuning and looks at Jongin with complete disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? Yeah I do. I’m your _taxi driver_.”

 

Jongin shakes his head at him and places a hand on Chanyeol’s knee. Chanyeol looks at him. “You’re also my friend and you’re someone that I want to know better.” He bites his lip. “I don’t think you realize this, but I’m really not an. . .outgoing person. Like, I never make small talk with people, I usually try to avoid talking to anyone I don’t already know at all costs. But it was different with you. You started talking to me on that first night and there was just something about you--you were so open and so friendly that I couldn’t help but want to talk to you. That’s why I looked for you that second night. And why I kept coming back. And then I somehow ended up telling you like a quarter of my life story.” He pushes his glasses up his nose and gives Chanyeol a small smile. “You know that I told my friend to stop coming to pick me up?” Chanyeol’s mouth drops open. “Yeah. After those first few times, I realized that I just wanted to spend more time with you even if I had to keep paying the cab fare. You’ve already impressed me Chanyeol. Even if it’s just as a friend.”

 

Chanyeol gapes at Jongin for a moment and then smiles back at him. He feels a glowing warmth all over. He goes back to tuning his guitar. “I’m not sure if that was supposed to make me feel less pressured, but now I feel like I have to live up to your expectations.”

 

Jongin slaps him on the shoulder. “Oh my god, you’re impossible.”

 

Chanyeol sticks his tongue out at him. “Only sometimes.” He straightens in his seat. “Ok. Which one do you want to hear first?”

 

Jongin folds his legs under his body and settles back into the cushions. “Let’s start in chronological order.”

 

Chanyeol takes a deep breath and then flashes a grin his way. “You got it.”

 

Jongin sits and watches as Chanyeol plays the entirety of Nothing Else Matters on his acoustic guitar. Chanyeol can’t make out the expression on his face but he keeps playing as well as he can, reminding himself all the while that this is no different from playing alone in his own bedroom. When his fingers strike the final chords, he transitions straight into the second song.

 

“I don’t know how to play harmonica, so you’re gonna have to settle with just the guitar for this one,” he says. Jongin just smiles and nods at him.

 

Chanyeol finishes the intro, closes his eyes, and then starts to sing. He lets muscle memory take over and he keeps his eyes closed for the rest of the song, pouring as much emotion, as much of his own _honesty_ as he can into Kwang Seok’s words.

 

The plays the last note and lets it hang heavily in the air between them. Chanyeol takes a deep breath and then, finally, opens his eyes.

 

Jongin is still sitting there, watching him. Chanyeol smiles sheepishly at him.

 

Jongin unfolds his legs and scoots closer to Chanyeol, taking the guitar out of his arms and setting it on the floor. At a loss for what to do with his hands, Chanyeol shoves them into the front pocket of his hoody

 

Jongin places two fingers under Chanyeol’s chin and lifts his head ever so slightly before leaning in closer. Chanyeol’s eyes go wide and his breath catches in his throat just as Jongin hesitates, searching for any sign of rejection. Instead, Chanyeol exhales and closes the distance between their lips.

 

Jongin’s mouth is yielding. Chanyeol’s eyes flutter shut and revels in the way that their lips move against each other, losing himself in the gentle push and pull. Jongin sighs into his mouth and places one hand on the back of Chanyeol’s neck drawing him closer. Chanyeol detangles his hands from his pocket and places one in Jongin’s soft hair and lets the other drift down to his waist. Jongin’s tongue slips out and licks softly at the seam of Chanyeol’s lips and Chanyeol opens his mouth, letting Jongin lick his way inside. Chanyeol hums and tries to drink Jongin in, trying to absorb as much of him as he can, as if this kiss, this warmth will fill in every last gap and every lingering space inside of his soul.

 

After what feels like both an era and a minute, they part. They’re both breathing heavily and Jongin’s lips are red. Chanyeol moves his hand from Jongin’s hair and instead traces the outline of the other man’s lips, feeling their softness on the tip of his finger. Jongin breaks into a smile.

 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Jongin says, his voice as soft and warm as his lips.

 

Chanyeol can’t help but smile back at him. “Me too.”

 

Jongin moves even closer still, so that he’s sitting in Chanyeol’s lap. Chanyeol wraps both arms around his waist.

 

“I didn’t know you could sing too.” Jongin buries his face in Chanyeol’s neck. “You have a really nice voice. Thank you.”

 

“I don’t sing too often,” Chanyeol says into Jongin’s hair. “But I really love that song. It’s not the same without the words.”

 

Chanyeol feels Jongin nod. “You’re right. You’re going to have to give me a full translation one of these days.”

 

Chanyeol rubs one hand over Jongin’s back. He can feel his wiry muscles contract at the touch.

 

“Deal.”

 

Jongin smiles and leans back in to kiss him again.

\---

 

 **(20:09) jongin kim:** im on break but i think the choreographer is gonna let us go kinda early today. will u be in the parking lot?

 

 **(20:11) chanyeol:** yeah! ill wait up for u.

 

 **(20:12) jongin kim** : :) see u soon

 

Chanyeol pockets his phone but doesn’t get out of the car. Instead, he turns the radio up and then stretches his arms above his head. ‘Glycerine’ is playing and he starts to sing along, tapping the beat out on the steering wheel.

 

It’s been two days since he’d sat on Jongin’s sofa, breathing in the other man. They’d ended up curled around each other, Jongin’s legs tangled with Chanyeol’s own, whispering to one another. One in the morning soon turned to three AM and then it was more morning than night.

 

“Just stay,” Jongin had said. “Leave with me when I go to rehearsal in the morning.”

 

It had been easy for Chanyeol to say yes.

 

And now it’s Thursday again but this time, Chanyeol doesn’t wait out in the cold. Instead, he does what he loves the most and watches the parade of people move up and down the escalator, waiting for a familiar smile to appear in his passenger side window.

 

\---

Chanyeol starts to associate the early morning hours with the glow of the streetlights from Jongin’s living room windows, with the gentle gasping sound of Jongin’s laugh, with Jongin’s steady gaze as Chanyeol plays guitar sitting on his sofa, with the warmth of Jongin’s skin under his fingers, and  with the hot press of Jongin’s mouth against his own. He associates waking up on Wednesday and Friday mornings with Jongin’s bed, their bodies pressed against each other and their legs intertwined, and with those few quiet moments when he lays still and watches Jongin ease into consciousness, his eyes blinking awake. He associates those mornings with the sight of Jongin’s first smile, small and special, reserved just for Chanyeol. Chanyeol starts to associate Jongin with feeling full.

 

\---

 

“Happy birthday, Chanyeol!” Jongin greets him at the door of his apartment with a huge hug and pulls him through the doorway. Chanyeol pushes the door closed behind him and then wraps his arms around Jongin, returning the hug as best as he can.

 

It’s just reaching 11:45 on Monday night and there isn’t much of Chanyeol’s actual birthday left. He hadn’t worked that night and had spent most of the evening finishing a paper for his Victorian novel class. Jongin had texted him early that morning, wishing him a happy birthday and inviting him over after rehearsal ended that night. Chanyeol had said yes immediately.

 

Chanyeol kisses him. “Thanks, Jongin.” He’s smiling so hard it feels like his face is going to split in half.

 

Jongin lets go and leads him towards the kitchen. There’s a few bottles of beer and a small chocolate cake with one candle stuck in the middle sitting on the table.

 

“I know it’s tiny but I didn’t want to get anything bigger. It’s just the two of us, you know?” Jongin takes a lighter out of his jeans pocket and lights the candle.

 

Chanyeol takes Jongin’s hand and squeezes it in thanks.

 

“It’s perfect, Jongin.”

 

Jongin smiles at him and then nudges his shoulder.

 

“Are you gonna blow out your candle or do I have to sing for you first? I’m a terrible singer so make your decision carefully.”

 

Chanyeol laughs and then just leans over and blows out the candle. Jongin starts clapping and then goes to get out utensils and two plates.

 

“So how does 25 feel?” Jongin asks as he hands Chanyeol a slice.

 

Chanyeol shrugs. “Just like 24 to be honest.”

 

Jongin uncaps two of the beers and heads towards the sofa, balancing the cake and the beers in his hands.

 

“But 25 is off to a better start than 24 though, right?” he asks once Chanyeol joins him.

 

Chanyeol accepts the beer from Jongin and takes a sip. “Of course.” He takes a bite of his cake and hums as the sweetness of the chocolate hits his tongue. “I’m spending it with you.”

 

Jongin smiles at him and then returns to his cake. “You’re so fucking cheesy.”

 

Chanyeol snorts at him. “You set yourself up for that one.”

 

They sit side by side, Chanyeol’s legs stretched out in Jongin’s lap, finishing their cake and talking about their days. Jongin fills him in on the rehearsals.

 

“The show opens on Friday,” he says draining the last of his beer. He gets up and grabs two others from the kitchen table. “It’s tech week. I’m surprised they even let us leave as early as they did tonight.” Jongin sits back down and hands one of the bottles to Chanyeol. “We’re doing full dress rehearsals tomorrow and Wednesday.” He pouts. “I’m probably not gonna see the inside of my apartment for _days_.”

 

Chanyeol puts his arm around him and draws Jongin close enough to press a kiss into his hair.

 

“It’ll be ok, though,” Chanyeol says. “It’s worth it. You’re gonna be the fucking _Mouse King_.”

 

Jongin moves away and shoots him a tired look. “I think you’re more excited about this than I am.”

 

Chanyeol shrugs. “What can I say? How many guys get to say that their boyfriend is a lead role in The Nutcracker?”

 

Jongin looks at him for a minute and then leans back into his embrace. He takes one of Chanyeol’s hands and starts playing with his fingers.

 

“Is that what I am?” Jongin asks, his voice quiet. “Am I your boyfriend?”

 

Chanyeol squeezes Jongin closer to him. He’s never felt so warm.

 

“If you want to be,” he responds, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’d like you to be.”

 

Jongin turns around in Chanyeol’s arms so that he’s straddling his lap. Chanyeol lets both of his hands fall to lace around his waist. He sees the joy on Jongin’s face.

 

“I’d like that a lot,” Jongin says. And then they’re kissing.

 

Jongin tastes like chocolate and beer and something tender that Chanyeol has only ever associated with him. Jongin threads his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair and Chanyeol tugs Jongin forward so that they’re chest to chest. Jongin is kissing him firmly, fiercely, like this time, _he’s_ the one trying to steal Chanyeol’s breaths and Chanyeol anchors his fingers on Jongin’s hips and tries his best to keep up. Jongin moves his lips from Chanyeol’s mouth and starts pressing a line of kisses down his neck until he settles at the juncture of his neck and he starts to suck on the pulse point, making Chanyeol moan. Chanyeol slides one hand under the hem of Jongin’s t-shirt and makes contact with the smooth skin of Jongin’s back. His skin is always so warm.

 

Jongin sighs and then moves to close his mouth over Chanyeol’s again. He rolls his hips down and Chanyeol hisses into his mouth. Chanyeol feels him grin into the kiss and then Jongin does it again, more deliberately.

 

“Shit, Jongin,” Chanyeol pants, breaking away to look his boyfriend in eye. Jongin is smirking at him.

 

“What do you want to do, Chanyeol?” Jongin asks. He licks at Chanyeol’s mouth and then draws away when Chanyeol chases after him with his lips.

 

They’ve done this before--spent hours kissing and touching and finding out the best ways to bring each other to slow, satisfying completion. But they haven’t gone all the way, not yet.

 

“This,” Chanyeol responds, slightly out of breath.

 

“I want to do more,” Jongin says, nuzzling Chanyeol’s neck. He starts to move his hips again and Chanyeol can’t help but whimper. “Is that ok with you?”

 

Chanyeol tightens his grip on Jongin and nods. “Yes,” he whispers. “I want that too.”

 

They end up naked on Jongin’s bed, Jongin smiling down at him as he hovers over Chanyeol. Chanyeol studies the planes of his face as he smooths his hands up Jongin’s sides.

 

“You’re so beautiful,” Chanyeol says, his voice light with awe. He really is. Jongin has a dancer’s body--all long, taunt, defined, and graceful. “I don’t think there’s a single part of you that’s not absolutely stunning.”

 

Jongin shakes his head at him and leans down, kissing Chanyeol on the mouth again. “You’re always so corny,” he says. “But you’re beautiful too.”

 

Chanyeol laughs. “My body is absolutely nothing compared to yours. I can’t even remember the last time that I went to a gym.”

 

Jongin starts kissing at Chanyeol’s chest, his lips grazing over his nipples.

 

“You’re beautiful the way you are,” he says into his skin, causing Chanyeol to shiver at the vibration.

 

“Who’s the corny one now?” Chanyeol says. He gasps as Jongin’s mouth slips lower, and then lower still, until he’s licking at the tip of his dick.

 

“Holy _shit_ , Jongin.” Chanyeol breathes hard through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut. Jongin wraps one hand around the base and then slides his lips further down the shaft, and Chanyeol’s entire world distills down to the warm wetness of Jongin’s mouth.

 

“S _hit_.”

 

Jongin draws away and then laughs. “Your vocabulary is pretty limited right now.” He starts moving his hand up and down and Chanyeol gasps.

 

“Ok, that’s not fair,” he pants. “You have no idea how good this feels.”

 

Jongin laughs again. His hair is hanging down into his eyes and his mouth is red and swollen pretty.

 

“I think I have an idea,” Jongin says. And then he takes him back into his mouth.

 

Chanyeol tips his head back into the pillows and moans low. Jongin hums in amusement and somehow takes Chanyeol deeper. Chanyeol coils his left hand in Jongin’s hair and thrusts his hips upwards, seeking something, anything more from Jongin.

 

Jongin sputters and pulls back, wiping a hand across his mouth.

 

“Shit, _shit_ , sorry Jongin,” Chanyeol pants. He’s so wound up that he can almost feel the knots under his skin tighten with each breath.

 

“It’s fine.” Jongin places both hands on the jut of each one of Chanyeol’s hip bones. Chanyeol stares up at him and then Jongin smiles.

 

“What should I do with you, Chanyeol?”

 

“Whatever you want,” Chanyeol says, because he needs Jongin to do something, _anything_ before his entire body splits in half.

 

Jongin tilts his head to the side and then leans down to kiss Chanyeol on the mouth. Chanyeol kisses him back, cupping the angle of Jongin’s jaw and licking into his mouth, tasting himself on the other man’s tongue.

 

Jongin breaks a hair’s breadth away. “Do you want me to fuck you?” Chanyeol can taste Jongin’s words on his lips. “Is that alright?”

 

“Yes.” Chanyeol’s heart is pounding so hard that he’s half afraid that it’s going to bounce out of his chest. His whole body feels so, so hot. “ _Y_ _es please._ ”

 

Jongin trails one hand down Chanyeol’s chest, stopping at his navel, only to reverse and chart the same course back up to his neck. He presses a kiss just off to the side of Chanyeol’s lips.

 

“One second.”

 

Chanyeol watches the smooth glide of the muscles in Jongin’s back as he gets up to rummage through the nightstand. With a quiet _yay_ , Jongin comes back to bed, a lube and a condom in hand.

 

“Just so you know, I expect you to do this to me once the goddamn Nutcracker is over,” Jongin whispers as he slicks up one of his fingers.

 

“Why do we have to wait until after the show?” Chanyeol asks. He gasps again as Jongin starts to trace his rim with his finger. “ _Fuck_.”

 

“Because there’s nothing worse than trying to hit all my fouettes when my ass is sore.” Jongin pushes the first finger inside and Chanyeol stops breathing.

 

“Come on, Chanyeol,” Jongin murmurs, pressing a soft kiss between Chanyeol’s eyes. “Breathe for me. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

 

And Chanyeol does, pushing all the air out of his lungs with a rushing cry. Jongin grins at him and then starts to fuck him in earnest, sliding another finger in alongside the first.

 

Somehow, Jongin knows exactly what to do; exactly where to press, exactly where to crook his fingers, exactly when to slow down, exactly when to speed up. Chanyeol has his eyes squeezed shut and one hand fisted in the sheets and the other tangled in Jongin’s hair. His breaths are going ragged, and as Jongin pushes a third finger inside him Chanyeol knows that he won’t last much longer.

 

“Jongin,” he whispers. His voice is rough. “Wait, stop, stop.”

 

Jongin’s fingers still and he draws them out. “Am I hurting you?” he asks, concern framing his words.

 

Chanyeol opens his eyes and shakes his head. “No, not at all. I just--I don’t want to come like this. I want you to fuck me.”

 

Jongin smiles at him again and then leans in to kiss him.

 

“Whatever you say.”

 

Chanyeol gropes around for a minute until he finds the condom. He takes it out of the packaging and then sits up. He reaches out for Jongin’s dick and then rolls the condom on for him. Jongin shudders at the feel of Chanyeol’s hand on him and Chanyeol feels gratified knowing that he’s not the only one who’s close.

 

“Where do you want to be?” Jongin asks. His voice is coarse and low. Chanyeol thinks he might prefer it this way.

 

“I want to see you.” Chanyeol lays back down on his back and spreads his legs.

 

Jongin smirks down at him. “Perfect.”

 

Sex with Jongin is rhythmic. His hips move with a fluid grace that Chanyeol can barely keep up with and instead, he digs his fingers into Jongin’s rippling back muscles and rides it out, letting Jongin fill him. Chanyeol is moaning, his voice splintering under the weight of the pleasure and Jongin kisses him, sucking the sounds right out of his mouth.

 

“Shit, _Jongin_.” Chanyeol breaks away from Jongin’s mouth and keens. There’s a tightening in his stomach and every part of him is on fire. “ _Holy shit_.”

 

“Are you close?” Jongin whispers in his ear. He wraps one hand around Chanyeol’s dick and starts stroking him.

 

Chanyeol nods. “So close.”

 

“It’s ok. Come. You wanted to be able to see me. I want to watch you come.”

 

So Chanyeol does, his body loosening with a sharp exhale. Jongin speeds up then, his hips snapping forward with a smooth agility that makes Chanyeol cry out from the aftershocks. Jongin gasps and then his body stills, the tremors of his own orgasm working their way through his body in waves.

 

Quietly, Jongin pulls out of him and then gets up, throwing out the condom and grabbing a handful of tissues from the side table. He returns to bed and wipes the mess off of Chanyeol’s stomach and then flops back down next to him.

 

Chanyeol reaches out for Jongin and pulls him close to his side, wrapping his arms around him. Jongin presses a kiss on his chest, just above Chanyeol’s heart. Chanyeol smiles down at him and kisses the top of his head.

 

“Happy Birthday, Chanyeol,” Jongin whispers into his skin.

 

Chanyeol falls asleep with a smile on his face.

  


\---

 

The applause is thunderous in Chanyeol’s ears. He’s on his feet, clapping as hard as he can, the biggest smile on his face. The company takes another bow, breathless with opening night euphoria, their hands linked together, the glitter on their costumes and the sweat on their faces glinting in the stage lights. The cast straightens and Chanyeol finally catches his eye.

 

Jongin’s entire face beams, lighting up brighter than the lights and he waves at Chanyeol, winking and blowing a kiss in his direction.

Chanyeol waves back.

He feels so full.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, then thank you! Particularly, thanks for letting me sneak in all my shitty 90s grunge and turn Chanyeol into the Sad College Kid™ that I still am at heart. The Nutcracker is one of my favorite ballets. I've seen it like four times including the time when I was in it. It was my first actual ballet performance. I was five. I was a peppermint twist.
> 
> If you want to listen to any of the songs I mentioned then:
> 
> \- [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NOG3eus4ZSo) is the Smashing Pumpkins song that I had in mind.
> 
> \- [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hOllF3TgAsM) is Glycerine by Bush.
> 
> \- [ This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tAGnKpE4NCI) is Nothing Else Matters by Metallica. And [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uVksVFGBjKw) is the version that I imagine Chanyeol playing (ironically enough, Nothing Else Matters is also the first song that I ever learned to play on guitar. You could say that it holds a special place in my heart). As a former dancer and as a recovering fan of thrash, I've always thought that NEM is a beautiful song and that it would be great to dance to.
> 
> \- [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vOa--Dhu11M) is I Might Be Wrong by Radiohead (my personal favorite Radiohead song).
> 
> \- And [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T0Kz4-1081g) is the Kim Kwang Seok song. It's most often translated as "Love That Is Too Painful Is Not Love." This version has subtitles. It's a fucking gorgeous song and I strongly recommend it.
> 
>  
> 
> Let me know what you think! I try to respond to most comments. If you ever want to chat, visit my (almost never) updated [tumblr](https://transparent-umbrellla.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/intensencounter).


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